


What magic touches

by StubbornDodecahedron



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Consent, Fluff, Healing Magic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:01:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29709936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StubbornDodecahedron/pseuds/StubbornDodecahedron
Summary: I found another drabble while cleaning my hard drive. Enjoy this snippit about the first time Hawke heals Fenris.
Relationships: Fenris/Male Hawke
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27





	What magic touches

The first time he saw Hawke use magic it sent a wave of dread and anger through him. No one had told him that the sword for hire was an apostate. Fire engulfed the foes he was facing and for a brief moment, he had recalled times when Danarius would deploy similar spells with little regard to his body guard's safety.

Hawke was an elemental mage, for the most part, who knew a single healing spell. Anders chided him about it frequently, saying he really ought to know more. Hawke would dodge the conversation every time, poor excuses abound. His favored one was that he simply wasn't good at it. He was good with elements, fire and ice being his specialties. The Arcane stuff concerned Fenris at first, but it was better than the questionable magic the dalish girl wielded. Necromancy felt nearly as unnatural as blood magic and she dabbled in both. 

Fenris had quickly recognized the control the man exercised with his spells and respected him a great deal for it. It was why he agreed to continue working with him around the city in the first place. Hawke had never once hit a comrade. The closest he ever managed was singing armor and even then it was a last resort he appeared to feel bad about. He even went through the trouble of acquiring a very illegal book on the Arcane arts to better shield them from his attacks when they were in close quarters. Vigilance for friendly-fire was all but absent from Fenris's mind when Hawke was the only mage fighting at his side, despite his past encounters with it while under Danarius's control. 

It wasn't until they were in the deep roads the Fenris truly realized something particular about the mage. They had just strolled directly into a nest of spiders. Hawke hated spiders and was very vocal about it. Whenever possible he took the high ground, offering support from above. It was the case during this such battle. A hoard of spiders, so many spiders, and one horrifyingly big one. It must have been at least two if not three times as large as the ones they had encountered in the caverns, and it wasn't going down without a fight. Varric was picking off the smaller ones, he could hear the arrows as they flew in rapid succession. A few were sticking out of the behemoth in front of him, partially blinding it. Anders was off somewhere doing a poor job, Fenris was sure. On the ground that left Fenris alone to battle the beast head-on. It was no easy task. He was bleeding and fairly certain it was probably a bit more than a scratch. His vision was blurring at the edges, but it was attacking in such rapid succession that Fenris didn't dare reach for the potion at his belt. Besides, it was almost down, just a few more hits. It was all he needed, he could endure, but when the next attack made contact, it sent him hard to the ground. 

Adrenaline coursed through him. He had to get up and quick. Then there was a shout, (his name perhaps?) and Hawke was standing over him using his staff to fend off the obscenely large spider. It had its fangs hooked around the metal reinforced wood, threatening to snap it like a twig. An arrow sent the spider reeling and Hawke took the chance to light the creature ablaze. Fire rained around them, but Hawke never hit anything he didn't mean to. Fenris fumbled with the cap of the potion having suddenly remembered he was still bleeding. He expected Hawke to retreat back to his perch, but he didn't. He stayed there in front of him, providing cover fire as Anders and Varric finished off the last stragglers. When the battle had ended, the mage rushed to his side asking him if he was alright, how bad was it, did he need a moment to rest? It was strange to the elf. He had never been afforded much time to lick his wounds. 

So now here they were, sitting in a spiders nest waiting for their various injuries to heal shut. His were taking the longest. "We should move on," Fenris said as he made a motion to move, but Hawke put a hand on his shoulder. Fenris could have gotten up anyway, but instead he fell back against the rock he had been leaning on. 

"We'll move on when you're done healing. It takes longer without magic. Whatever wants to try to kill us next can wait a few minutes," Hawke said, that ever-present humor in his voice. But it was the way he said it as if magic wasn't an option to the elf, that had Fenris wondering. He moved to rest his forearm on his knee, leaning closer to Hawke as he spoke. 

"You mean to say that you avoid healing me?" It seemed to catch the mage off guard. Hawke opened his mouth to speak but paused to cast a glance over his shoulder. Anders was going on about one of his ventures and Varric was surely taking mental notes for his next series.

"I didn't think you would want me to, but it certainly would make this whole fighting darkspawn thing a hell of a lot easier. Though I suppose I own Anders a drink now. Can you un-threaten someone?" A small smile crept over Fenris's face at the response, but not because of the humor. Hawke had purposely not been healing him. His magic never touched him, and from the sound of it, he had made sure no one else's did either. He looked up at the mage and then down at his side to the gash he had his hand pressed up against. It wasn't bleeding nearly as much. It had probably even stopped and was now simply knitting itself shut. 

"Perhaps just this once." He wasn't entirely sure why he was allowing this, but for some reason he had come to trust Hawke. Well, at the very least he trusted him as much as he could trust a person, though that was saying an awful lot for a mage. Maybe it was more so that he wanted to trust him. It would be brief, only take a moment. If he didn't like it, it would be over before he knew it. If he told him never again, Hawke would listen.

"If you're sure." Fenris gave him a short nod and removed his hand from the wound. Hawke's hand never actually touched him, only the green aura that surrounded it did. The magic felt like static as it crept over his skin when it should have felt sharp, and it confused him, but then there it was, that hot stabbing feeling that he had trained himself not to flinch under. He was out of practice it would seem because suddenly it dialed back down to static. "Sorry, the lyrium, it's like trying to water a single daisy with a barrel." Another moment and the wound was gone without a trace. He brushed his fingers over where it used to be, wondering if it had intersected one of the lines of lyrium, if that had been where the sudden spike of pain came from, or if it was simply the proximity.

"If you were to practice," Fenris started. His eyes were glued to the floor by the hesitance and uncertainty that turned in his stomach. "would it not be painful?" As if pain were his biggest concern. He could handle the pain just fine, but the static had been reassuring in the way it felt restrained. 

"It might take a few tries," Hawke said as he stood and extended a hand to help Fenris to his feet. It wasn't a guarantee, but it was something. Fenris couldn't deny that it would be useful, and if it was just Hawke, then maybe it wouldn't be so terrible.


End file.
